Look
by cautiousAlbatross
Summary: John just wishes cool, mysterious Dave Strider would look at him.


Your name is John Egbert, and you wish Dave Strider would notice you.

You always think he looks so cool, hanging around with his shades, doing whatever it is cool kids do. Sometimes you wonder what it is exactly he does, anyway. Mostly he just seems to hang around, looking cool. In the few lessons you share – English and Religious Studies, which is unfortunately compulsory – he just sits at the back, swinging on his chair and staring out of the window, completely ignoring the teacher. He doesn't talk to anyone, and everyone is too intimidated to talk to him. Part of you thinks he must be lonely, but the rest of you think he's probably too cool for that.

You're just leaving school, minding your own business, when a hand grabs you by the elbow.

"Hey," Dave says, his expression inscrutable under his shades, "You done the English essay?"

"The one for tomorrow?" you ask, feeling slightly taken aback. Since when did Dave Strider talk to anyone, let alone quiet, dorky John Egbert?

"Yeah."

"Yeah, I've done it," you say, "Have you?"

"Nope," he says, not looking particularly bothered by this, "Hey, can I come over to your place?"

"You can't copy my essay!" you say, pulling your arm out of his hand.

"I'm not that stupid," he says, catching up with as you march away, "I just need to glance over yours. You know, for ideas."

"Why me? We've barely even talked before," you say, slowing down slightly, "I'm not even good at English."

He just shrugs. You continue walking in silence, wondering what you're going to do now. Dave Strider is following you home – admittedly, just to copy your homework, but still. Now is your chance to impress him. Before, you wished he'd just look at you. Now, he's talking to you and you don't know what to do.

"So, uh," you say, breaking the silence stretching on awkwardly between you, "Um."

You try desperately to think of something not desperately uncool to talk about.

"Yeah?" he says, glancing across at you and away again.

"Do you, uh, not like English, then?"

You curse yourself mentally for choosing the worst possible topic of conversation.

"Eh," he says, shrugging, "Teacher sucks."

"I'm awful at it," you say, wishing you had something else to talk about, "I don't know what I'm doing, really."

"What are you good at?"

You try to gauge his expression, wondering whether he's seriously interested, but his sunglasses reveal nothing.

"I like Biology," you say, half-shrugging awkwardly, "I think it's my favourite subject. What about you?"

He just shrugs again. You get the impression that he's too cool to have a favourite subject.

"Well, uh, what are your hobbies?" you ask, wishing he'd give you more to work with.

He looks like he's about to shrug, but stops himself.

"I remix music," he says, "And me and my bro do martial arts."

"Oh, wow! That's really cool!" you say, genuinely amazed.

He shrugs modestly. You're just searching for something else to say when you realise you're nearly home.

"My house is just up here," you say, pointing then lowering your hand and feeling like an idiot.

"Cool."

You walk the last stretch in silence, and Dave follows you through the door, kicking off his shoes and looking around. He looks completely at home, and it makes you feel slightly uncomfortable.

"Uh, this is the living room," you say, although you think it's probably pretty obvious, "Then my room's upstairs."

He nods, then heads for the stairs, not waiting for you to lead the way. Slightly taken aback, you follow him up to your bedroom.

"Can I use the desk?" he asks, dumping his bag next to it and pulling out his English book.

"Uh, sure," you say, "I'll just get my book."  
"Sweet," he says, moving your keyboard out of the way and sitting in your chair.

You take out your English book and hand it to him.

"Thanks. Hey, dude, your posters suck. Those movies are all awful."  
"Get out," you say, offended, "They're awesome."

He snorts, flipping to the right page and taking out a pen.

"I'm letting you copy my homework," you say, lying down on your bed and staring at the ceiling, "You can't insult my movies."

"Oh, come on, they suck," he says, and you can hear him trying not to laugh.

"My house, my posters, my rules. No being mean."

He just laughs, then continues working in silence. You stare at the ceiling and try to come to terms with the fact that Dave Strider is in your bedroom. The sound of his pen moving across the paper is relaxing, and you find yourself idly daydreaming about what might happen next.

"Hey," says Dave, breaking into your thoughts after what must have been at least three quarters of an hour, "I'm done."  
You look over at him, blushing slightly. Standing up, he walks over to the bed and drops your book next to you. You notice he's taken off his shades. He looks a lot friendlier without them.

"Thanks," he says, sitting down on the bed next to you.

"No problem," you say, sitting up, and feeling your face heat up as you realise Dave Strider is technically on your bed with you.

You don't have time for any more embarrassing thoughts, because suddenly he's leaning in and kissing you. You make a startled noise, jumping slightly, but lean into the kiss. He pulls away almost immediately, and you pout, disappointed.

"Sorry," he says, and you notice his eyes are red.

"It's okay," you say, forcing yourself to stay still, and not stand up and do a happy dance like you want to.

"I didn't mean to... I mean... I'm..."

You wait patiently, half-hoping he'll give up on his explanation and just kiss you again instead.

"Look, I just... I've got the hugest crush on you."

He takes a deep breath, glancing away from you, then looks back, a pleading expression in his eyes.

"Oh wow," you say, your eyes widening, "I'm... Oh wow."

He gives you an apprehensive look, his face still just a couple of inches away.

"I can't..." you continue, "Are you serious?"

"Uh, yeah."

"I can't believe this! Dave Strider has a crush on me. Dave Strider. Me. Oh my god."

"Um..." he trails off, looking slightly confused.

"Oh!" you say, realising he's probably feeling more than a little confused, "I mean! Me too! I mean, I don't have a crush on me! But on you!"

"Oh."

He pauses for a moment, then smiles. He looks so pleased with himself you just have to kiss him, and you do.

"I never thought you even knew who I was," you say, pulling away after a couple of minutes, "I didn't think you ever looked at me."

"I never stopped."


End file.
